


Oil

by Thysanotus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-01
Updated: 2006-01-01
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:38:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thysanotus/pseuds/Thysanotus
Summary: Fun with butter





	Oil

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: This is for Lis, although am having flam(e). I am sorry for conclusion.  


* * *

The batter froths. Ron yanks open the door of the cooling cabinet.  
  
“Harry!” he yells. “I can’t find the butter!”  
  
A clatter is heard in the next room. Ron sticks his head through the connecting door, and opens his mouth to utter some smart remark, but words fail him, because at that moment, Harry, his best mate, is naked on the rug.  
  
There on his chest is a stick of butter.  
  
Harry props himself up on one elbow, unwrapping the stick of butter from its shiny silver wrapping. He sets the paper aside, and cups the butter between his hand and tight, oh so tight, stomach. Once the butter has softened enough, he begins to rub it over his torso in long smooth strokes. Ron is trying not to drool, pinned in the shadow between the door and the wall.  
  
Harry beckons him over, and he moves slowly into the room, as though he’s wading through treacle. He strips off as he goes, so that as he meets Harry on the hearth, they are rubbing skin to skin. He can feel the oiliness between them, this frictionless layer allowing Harry to glide over his skin, slide a hand between his legs, and a finger into his arse.  
  
Ron picks the oddly distorted stick of butter up from the floor where Harry has allowed it to fall, and arches his back as Harry touches something inside him with three fingers. He is hard and dripping with more than butter now, as his hands warm, and melt the spread over Harry’s erection.  
  
Harry slides into Ron’s arse, and Ron gasps into Harry’s mouth. The oil allows Harry to move effortlessly on the larger boy, drawing whimpers and cries from him. Ron’s cock is gently massaged between their bellies, slicked by butter. Harry whines as he comes, and Ron’s muscles tense and hold Harry in place.  
  
Harry snatches at Ron’s cock and pumps it in his hand as Ron comes onto his belly. Harry quirks an eyebrow at Ron, as he draws a finger through the mess. He pops his finger in his mouth.  
  
“I can’t believe it’s not butter!”


End file.
